


Dream of the Dead

by Scarimonious



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-01
Updated: 2010-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarimonious/pseuds/Scarimonious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a couple of inception_kink prompts: Ariadne builds a post-apocalyptic dreamscape for an extraction job. When the team goes in, they find that the subject's projections are all zombies. Eames/Arthur/Ariadne working together smoothly as a team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream of the Dead

Something was wrong. No, scratch that, if Arthur's expression was anything to go by, something was _horribly_ wrong.

"I don't understand." Ariadne looked around the deserted street. This was exactly how she'd imagined it would be like; the narrow alleys, the broken and boarded up windows, even the sky was a foreboding grey. "Didn't you say that I just have to create the world and the subject populates it with their subconscious? If so, uh, where's the population?" She had a chilling thought that this could be what happened if the team killed all the projections in someone's mind. She shivered and flexed her fingers to fight the urge to hug herself. "Maybe I should change something and see if that shakes anything loose?"

"No, don't," Arthur said, still scowling and his attention on the vast nothing that surrounded them. "The idea is for us to get in and out without the mark knowing that we were there."

"Yeah, but how can we find what we're looking for when the subject isn't even here?" She waved a hand at her handiwork. She was a little irked that she spent all this time designing a dream and there was nobody to buy it. "Anyway, I made this based on the information _you_ gave me."

That got this attention. He gave her a sharp glare. He may have started to reply, but Eames interrupted with a, "That's quite enough, children. As they say, if Mohammad won't go to the mountain, we'll just have to bring the mountain to him."

He set off on a jaunty stroll down the cracked sidewalk, like it was a quiet Saturday afternoon and there was going to be ice cream.

"Maybe we could split up and cover more ground?" Ariadne suggested with an uneasy shrug. "We can still meet at the plaza as planned."

"No, I'm with Mister Eames on this one." Arthur had already begun to follow. "C'mon."

She hung back for a few moments and gazed up at her ode to urban decay. It was going to bug her until she figured out just went wrong with this design. She shook herself out of it and hurried after the others. She didn't have to really see where they were going, just glance up every now and then, because she knew every inch of these crooked streets, every tuft of grass that had broken through the asphalt, and the types of newspapers and graffiti that plastered the area. She could just walk and sink back into her thoughts, and try to come up with a solution to a problem she had no way of anticipating. She finally figured that maybe she could create a closed loop, and just slowly do away with the smaller streets so that there was just one gauntlet to run. That way, anyone wandering around – subconscious projection or not – would only have one way to go. Like Eames said, if they couldn't find the subject...

She had barely started putting this idea into action when she walked straight into Arthur's back. "Ow, sorry," she muttered as she rubbed her forehead and sidestepped him. "I know, I should be watching where I'm going."

He caught hold of her shoulder with one hand, turning her back toward him, and raised a finger to his lips. She nodded, but also shrugged in askance of _why_. It wasn't like there was anyone around to spot them. He replied by tilting his head toward the corner of the street, where Eames had himself flattened against the wall, neck craned as far as he could as he peered around the edge.

That was when she heard the scream. It was close, and it sent a chill right down her spine. This wasn't the kind of scream you heard in horror movies or on crime shows. This was the sound of someone who was facing death. It was made all the more eerie in that it was the only sound in this world.

Eames edged back around the corner and held up one hand, his fingers splayed as though to wave, then gave a short nod. He drew his gun and disappeared around the corner. Ariadne tensed and pulled out her own gun, counting backward from five. She glanced up at Arthur to see him nodding almost to the beat of her countdown. They reached one together, and moved after Eames.

She wasn't sure what she expected when she rounded the corner. This street looked just the way it should, even with Eames scurrying across it in a zig-zag. The scream came again, louder this time, and accompanied by the breaking of glass. Eames made it to an alcove near a cafe, and gestured for them to meet him over there. No sooner had they crowded into the tiny area than he pointed toward the abandoned parking lot. "Over there," he said so quietly, Ariadne wasn't sure if he'd even spoken at all. She looked to where he'd indicated, and at first she didn't see anything. It was just a parking lot, filled with defunct cars quietly rusting in the sun.

Then she saw it – movement between a couple of SUVs. There was definitely someone walking around over there. The crack of gunfire made her start, and even the guys flinched back at the noise. She peered back around Eames, just in time to see someone climb on top of one of the cars, shotgun in hand. That was him! That was the subject, Sam Collins! The gnawing doubt that maybe she'd screwed up started to fade. The subject took aim and shot at a seemingly random direction. She could see more movement between the cars now. There were projections in here after all.

Eames tilted his head toward Collins and held up three fingers. Arthur shrugged, but nodded, and looked to Ariadne to see if she agreed. She mouthed the countdown and took a deep breath, preparing to curse her short legs. She was probably going to have to jog to keep up with them. The trio moved together as one as they ducked down the end of the street and into the lot. Ariadne was the one who had to lead the way, as she was the one that knew the path between the cars and barriers. She caught a glimpse in a grimy side mirror of Arthur and Eames right behind her, like a couple of faithful shadows. A smile played on her lips as she rounded a minivan, but it promptly vanished when she spotted the projection.

Suddenly, it made sense as to why everything had felt so wrong. If this had been any other dream, it would have been a man in a suit. It was still a man in a suit, but it was tattered and stained, and it looked like he'd just clawed his way out of a coffin. His skin was sickly greyish green, his hair missing in chunks and she could even see the smooth bone of his skull in some places. His milky eyes stared sightless and unblinking as he shuffled between the cars. Her gaze flicked to the newspaper that got stuck under the guy's scuffed shoe. The headline still read END OF THE WORLD? in big bold letters. Yeah, she could figure out where she went wrong. She had been getting good at tailoring dreams to suit the realities the team wanted to mimic, but she was pretty sure she'd gone too far here. She'd made a post-apocalyptic paradise and Collins had populated it accordingly: with zombies.

She took aim and fired. A hole opened up on the zombie's forehead while the back of its head splattered all over what used to be a Mustang convertible. The zombie toppled to the ground like a puppet that had its strings cut. It was still twitching as she moved along the path between cars, and she had to pull her scarf up over her mouth and nose. This was the worst thing she'd ever smelled, it was so bad her eyes started to water.

"Take shallow breaths." Arthur told her, and pressed his hand to her back to urge her on. "And pick up the pace." There were more gunshots, this time not just from where they were headed. Things got dicey as they neared – the projections had picked up on their presence and had started to converge, and a couple of shotgun blasts came far too close for comfort. The real kicker came as they hid behind a car that had all its windows shattered. Broken glass ground under her boots, and there was a corpse lying face down in a pool of blood near the front passenger side wheel.

"Bloody hell. Looks like we need a Plan B." Eames said as he nudged the body onto its side. The face was bloody and its face was fixed in a silent scream of terror, most of its throat shredded. But even then, it was recognisable – this was Mister Leonard Murray, Collins' best friend, and the guy that Eames was supposed to forge in order to get close enough to get the information they were supposed to extract. "Why does cannibalism always have to get in the way of a sure thing?"

"We can use this." It took effort for Ariadne to look up from the gory remains. She swallowed thickly, and winced as she could taste blood in the air. The smell of cordite filled the narrow space between cars as Arthur shot a zombie before it had a chance to shamble toward them. "You can still be Murray, just...injured. We can ingratiate ourselves with the Collins by rescuing you. If anything, it may make the extraction easier because of the trust that's been built."

"It's going to take a little longer to get the bruises right. Give me all the time you can." Eames reached over her to break off the mirror from the car, then settled back to preen a little before he got to work on the camouflage.

Arthur rather casually threw a grenade across the parking lot. The ensuing explosion made the cars around them rock while debris rained down around them. But it was the perfect diversion to draw out the zombies so they could be picked off. Ariadne held a grenade of her own and wondered how far she could toss it, or if she should use a launcher. Another explosion rocked the car she was leaning against, the chassis creaking and scraping under the strain. They'd have to move soon, the cover probably wouldn't last much longer.

Something grabbed her leg and pulled. She let out a startled yelp as she toppled forward, the grenade bouncing out of her hand. Instinctively, she kicked back at whatever held her, but the grip on her leg didn't loosen. Instead, it yanked again and she started to slide under the car. Eames grabbed her arm and braced one foot against the car as he started to pull her back. He looked in terrible shape, but there was a sureness in his hands that said he wasn't going to let her go. He managed to drag her from under the car and let her use him to steady herself, but in doing so, the zombie that had hold of her leg was also dragged forward. It started to crawl over the broken glass, mouth wide and full of broken teeth as it tried to bite her ankle. She kicked at it again, this time planting her boot squarely on its nose. It slid to the ground, but maintained a death grip on her leg. At least, it did until Arthur shot its hand off. Ariadne twisted around and shot the zombie in the head before it had a chance to try and chew on her again. She also kicked it for good measure.

"You ready?" Arthur asked, looking at Eames while he handed Ariadne back her grenade. Eames slung his arm across Arthur's shoulders and leaned into him.

"I was born ready, darling." Eames smiled, but it was crooked from the bruises and swelling on his new face.

Ariadne kept her arm around his waist, and the three of them hobbled out from between the cars to shout at Collins not to shoot them. There was a horrifying moment when the zombies all shifted direction and began to converge on them, but this worked in their favour to motivate Collins in joining them in a flight to the nearest building. He'd already sent his girlfriend ahead and she was waiting at the door to bar it as soon as they were inside. Ariadne took the opportunity to throw her grenade before she ducked behind the door, throwing her weight behind it to slam it shut right as the explosion made the walls shudder.

They did it! They were inside! This next part was up to Eames to work his charm. She lingered for a moment, watching the smoke and debris clear. She must've hit the sign out the front of the building. Most of the letters for the name were missing. One more letter fell off and shattered on the ground.

Now the sign just read MAL.


End file.
